


In Holy Agronomy

by NoR_ply



Category: Undertale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farmtale (Undertale), Angst, Bigotry & Prejudice, Care, Comfort, Crying, Healing, Horror, Horrortale Sans (Undertale), Hurt, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Multi, NSFW, PTSD, Recovery, Romance, Tears, Torture, Underfell Grillby (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Wholesome, all that good stuff, depictions of violence and gore, descriptions of death, farmer - Freeform, fluff guaranteed, kustard - Freeform, oi got a brand new combine arvester, oo-ar, puns, west country accent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29608059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoR_ply/pseuds/NoR_ply
Summary: Sans discovers a new world overflowing with food, kindness and some sorely-needed affection.[Underfell/Horror Sans and Farmer/Classic Sans][Farmer Sans is based on UK West Country so basically it's like Hobbiton]
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	1. PREFACE

_**Agronomy** is a branch of agricultural science that deals with the study of crops and the soils in which they grow. ... They conduct research in crop rotation, irrigation and drainage, plant breeding, soil classification, soil fertility, weed control, and other areas._

.

**In Holy Agronomy**

**_Chapter One - PREFACE_ **

"A garden...?" Sans said, letting the suggestion bounce around the inside of his skull before stumbling out of his permanent, lopsided grin.  
"Ar, yeah. I think you'd get on well wi' it." The native Sans reaffirmed, nodding his head as he finished patting firm the soil.  
Sans was thinking he would have to think of some sort of nickname for the farmer version of himself. He avoided directly addressing him since it felt so surreal that they shared the same name.  
Ever since their first introduction when he had dryly replied: " _your worst nightmare_."

Ultimate attacks were summoned.  
His Blaster had been snared by his opponent's much more impressive ability.  
The other Sans took a moment to assess and conclude that the doppelganger was not as big a threat as he claimed to be.  
He released the pressure slightly by dismissing his fully-formed Blaster, instantly releasing the hold on Sans' own. It practically whined as it faded out, dumping an enormous amount of magic back into his reserves. He had forgotten how to brace for it and said he was weak from years of malnutrition it hit him pretty hard, knocking him to his knees. It was a position he had become accustomed to ever since.

Every time he visited this dimension he ended up joining his friend in the soil, with gloved hands, drawing back the earth rhythmically following instruction to create the perfect bed for the sleeping seeds.  
He had been helping his alternate self for several weeks now... or was it longer than that...? He hadn't been so conscious of how bad his sense of time had become until the Sans pointed it out early into their agreement.  


°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Thoughtlessly, he cast a few bladed bone bullets and would have hit his mark, if he wasn't up against an opponent that knew him like the back of his hand.  
"Easy there pal, I'm not goin' to hurt you. I can see yer in no good shape to go breakin' bones." He said, sauntering close but still keeping a firm hold onto his soul.  
"Breaking bones... ain't my style, _pal_ , I impale my enemies." He chuckled, his misplaced over-confidence earning him a tight squeeze on his battered soul.   
The native scratched his chin in but made no move to loosen his grip.  
"Hmm, I think we should talk more, in neutral circ'mstances. Ain't been no skele folk in the Un'erground 'cept me and my brother in a long while... not likely you're from 'ere anyways. Ah would've known about ye fer sure. What's yer name me'ansum?"  
Well and truly beaten, on his knees and failing to disguise his panting as low growling, the broken-skulled skeleton monster gave his captor the respect of his eye contact.  
"...Sans."  
"...what?"  
The scarred skeleton repeated: "Sans... my name is... _Sans_."


	2. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad times.
> 
> Bad fish.
> 
> Good mustard.

**In Holy Agronomy**

_ **Chapter Two - Hope** _

.

He used a shortcut to get straight into Grillby's bar; it was essential on a life or death principle that he was never seen.  
What was once a severely guarded secret of his was now common knowledge to the few inhabitants of Snowdin that he made sure he could trust. Therefore, when he appeared suddenly beside the bar stool where he spent most of his free time, nobody jumped and absolutely nobody said a word. There were only gasps and revered nods of thanks as eager hands took his heavy burdens out of his arms and stole them feverishly fast into the back room.  
Sans sank onto his familiar spot and felt his magic settling, much easier these days, in his bones.  
Grillby was there immediately with the usual welcome. He placed it gently on the counter and stayed, silently waiting for Sans to notice.  
Eventually, removing his phalanges from absent-mindedly rubbing at the boney edges of his eyes, he became aware of his lingering presence.  
"...Grillb..." he breathed, disbelieving. He reached out with a slightly unsure hand to the yellow-labeled bottle and held it up to the light, provided by his friend and the single dim spotlight above the bar.  
"First new batch." Grillby said proudly, softly. He knew well by now to speak with care to his old friend, who was often hard of hearing due to his...  
...distracting mind.  
"Ah, Grillbs... th-ank you." Was all Sans said, popping off the lid like old times and downing it in (almost) one. He coughed; suddenly choking on the rich flavour his palette was so unused to. Recovering quickly and tenaciously licking at any spilt drops, his cough became a raspy chuckle.  
"Don't worry, I'll put it on your tab."   
That got them both laughing, perhaps a little over-the-top for the level of the joke but it felt like they needed this moment. Both of them had become stronger friends ever since...   
...since Papyrus was taken into full service. Neither had seen much to be joyful about in the many years of Undyne's reign - _the first of her name:_ She so confidently proclaimed, despite... how unlikely it was that she could pass on the self-imposed title to _any_ kind of offspring.  
That hadn't stopped her from replacing the old family banners of the Dreemurr family with her own, speared soul crest, with the pride and certainty that her reign would last longer than the Dreemurrs ever had.  
That day when she dusted the old queen - sweet Tori - was a day most inhabitants tried to forget about. Sans especially... except it was always in his mind... as it was the first day his brother was called in for extended service and... stopped coming home.

It wasn't long after that the first power outtage happened... which everyone, including Sans, brushed off as it had often happened when power between the territories had a switch around due to a boss getting his ass dusted. Toriel had been the biggest Boss after Asgore and as her ex-husband's dust littered the golden garden, Undyne had taken her chance to honour his name: to kill all humans and take their souls.  
The queen had to be removed: there was no place for forgiveness in Undyne's eyes. There would be no change in the law - the humans _must pay_ for what they did.  
Both monsters stood their ground and battled ferociously... but Undyne _**refused to die.**_

Sans and Grillby had stopped laughing and had returned to being locked inside their own internal hells... except that recently, Grillby's indigo flames were looking a little more violet than they had been for a long time.  
Sans noticed.  
He wasn't one for small talk though so he kept that observation to himself and let it satisfy his soul.  
  
There was at last, ten years since the last human came through the Underground and changed everything; a glimmer of hope in the darkness of their tomb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Gee formatting these chapters is so confusing, sorry if there are repeated things in the wrong places! ^^;]


	3. The Long Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The residents of Snowdin in Hare's Underfell.
> 
> Who's still hanging on in Undyne's rotten underworld?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH  
> MY  
> GOD
> 
> I TOTALLY FORGOT TO POST THIS CHAPTER???!!
> 
> This is what happens when you type in Memo and have one chapter spread across several files (that shift around every time you look at them) abd you label it as chapter 2 when it's actually now chapter 3 because the chapter 1 slot on this site is PREFACE, meaning chapter 1 became chapter 2 and arrgjgfedhjfefhdfhhfsfgedfhhjjjkjhhhgrrhh???!!  
> The worst thing is I KNEW there was something wrong for the whole of last week as I was trying to find a scene from this chapter, but kept thinking i must have missed it?? THEN I FIND THE WHOLE CHAPTER HIDDEN IN MEMO AND IT'S ACTUALLY A REALLY IMPORTANT CHAPTER??!! ToT
> 
> AGGGHHHHHHH i am so sorrrry, i hope this hasn't confused too many people T3T
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter in the correct place it should have always been TwT
> 
> ~Nor

**Chapter Three** **\- The Long Nightmare.**

He had his usual after-dinner cat nap on the counter, still holding the mustard close in his gnarled fist. Grillby, with all the respect of a monster who owed him his life, lay a blanket on his Boss and made sure to keep any curious lesser mortals out of the way.  
He still had no idea where he was getting the food from and was still resolute to get the truth out of him one day... but for now he was more than happy to honour his wish for silence and keep recieving the goods.  
In the back room was the old kitchen Grillby used to cook meals in. There was a trapdoor leading to the cellar below where supplies had always been kept.

About three years ago they had extended it so that it could accomodate some beds where the most vulnerable citizens of Snowdin could hide when Undyne or her guards came to patrol. It used to be that Grillby could fill a small crate with all that they could risk hiding from the thieves. It was important they made sure to leave a few scraps here and there to not arouse suspicion.  
Going back out to the town after a raid was always heartbreaking. Any and all crops the citizens managed to grow with the weak magic left in the soil, fuelled by their own dwindling soul magic, were mercillessly torn up and taken to the castle.  
They didn't think they would last much longer.  
Grillby's flames started to hurt him every day, not just during blackouts. He took to seating himself in the corner of his empty, silent bar, away from anyone who could accidentally brush by him. The children were clumsy when they played and every time they bumped past in their chasing games it caused his whole body to spasm in pain and fury that were taking longer to settle every time.  
He had resigned himself to his inevitable fate, alone.  
That was how his story would have ended, he was certain of it...  
...and then Sans had woken him from his ever-painful sleeping, with more food in one place that he had seen in a decade.  
Without pulling him into an Encounter to duel for it, without even a promise of a favour, Sans smiled his jagged, broken-toothed grin and winked, saying: "I'll start a tab for yeh."  
And he was gone in the blink of an eye.

It had taken one dizzy moment for Grillby to realise this was _real_ and he flew into eating everything as fast as his flames could consume it. He was vaguely relieved no-one saw his rather undignified shovelling of so many raw ingredients, of which he soon remembered how to cook up into filling soups and stews for everyone to get a bowl full, every night.  
Sans came back later with more.  
Again and again over the next couple of days he returned suddenly, never saying much, hardly acknowledging anyone who leapt in shock at a suddenly appearing skeleton, dropping carrots, potatoes, courgettes, all kinds of vegetables, tumbling to the floor and him stumbling backwards as though they were _hot_ potatoes (and yes, there were always hot potatoes available now), before he was gone again in a snap.  
  
That was a month ago.  
Everything had switched to a much faster pace since then; with everybody's help they had begun to dig out new extensions to the old tunnel systems Grillby always had (for past smuggling). Several houses were connected to Grillby's cellar now, not just the one that used to belong to mr Nock. He lasted quite a while, thanks to his connection to Grillby he had food for at least two years... but eventually even Grillby couldn't supply anymore and the monster with a penchant for morse code puzzles Fell Down. The house, like many others, remained unoccupied ever since.  
  
Now that the information that Grillby and Sans had access to a secret supply of food, the most vulnerable citizens moved into the tunnels. They abandoned their homes, feigning their demise with dust left behind... sacrificing a part of their bodies such as a horn or a finger, a tentacle or tail... 

The guard raids were far and few between now - small piles of scattered dust would be counted as evidence of an entire monster dusting by the time they were discovered.  
Some left behind much more than all that though... there were so many orphans to take care of and the Bun family did their best to raise them in the cramped under-underground, deciding to move in permanently. They regarded Grillby as they had always done: he was their stern, penny-pinching, somewhat greedy landlord and gave him all the old shows of respect, even when he announced those old days were over.  
It had always been _**Kill Or Be Killed**_ but since the whole damn world had gone to ruin, there wasn't much to be a money-grabbing gang lord over anymore. Money was obsolete.  
Without counting the multitude of stripes, there were six adults, including Grillby, living in the cellars of Snowdin:  
Of the Bun family there was old hard-nosed Bunette who ran the inn and her mute daughter, Cinnabun and Bunette's nephew; Charlie (his two kids were the only ones here with at least one parent).   
There was also Salphir; the lizard Librarbian and Red; the last of Grillby's gang still loyal by his side.  
Others who remained living in the town above was the wolf monster who used to throw huge blocks of ice into the river to keep the Core cool... but he had been out of that job since it stopped operating. He kept watch now being the largest and most physically intimidating monster in Snowdin. He did it for the children, no-one else.  
There were those few left of the Trot and Drake family around he was sure... last time he heard they were still around.  
In all honesty he had abandoned keeping track on the status of anyone outside of his immediate circle of... _associates_ , about the time he recognised signs of his own failing life force. Months of keeping to the confines of his home and business premises whilst he weakened by the day had taken its toll on his reputation.  
Many believed him to be dusted and had run amok in _his_ territory without him knowing. His gang members Fell Down or fled town, who knew where to? Only Red remained to defend the fort, as it quickly became; guarding his Boss to the very end.

Red, the likewise named red bird monster, had been stunned into silence when Grillby served Sans a drink one time (after his return with more food to fill the secret larder), saying nothing to him the whole time Sans slowly chugged down a freshly made bloody mary... to then say: "This one's on the house, Boss."  
Without even an exchange of looks, that seemed to be all that was needed to be said and done for Grillby to step down from a long life of leadership. His time deciding on how things were done around here was over.  
Sans decided now.  
Without Sans... there had been no hope. They all owed their lives to him and that time he didn't come back for longer than two weeks had been enough to seriously concern everybody. Thankfully they had just enough in the store to feed everyone, even the other town monsters who came in for their 'Silent Soup' meals every day.

Then Sans returned; ashen-faced and slow, dopey-eyed and... not entirely _there_. He had a large hessian sack, standing as high as his chest, bulging with fresh produce, which he slowly opened and began to dispense out upon the counter.  
At the time Red and Salphir were in the bar and they, with an equally shocked Grillby, watched and stared as Sans meticulously laid out item after item, not saying a word and not even showing any indication he knew they were there.  
Salphir went downstairs to inform the Buns that help was needed to bring all the food down quickly, in that time Sans had run out of immediate bar space to unload more and stopped, looking like he had fallen asleep on his feet.

Grillby nodded to Red, who gingerly manouvered a stool behind the skeleton, gently patting his shoulders with feathered limbs until he was seated. Even more carefully, he lifted Sans' limp arm onto the bar where Grillby placed a cold glass of blended tomato juice into his thin phalanges.  
"Wake up Sans," Grillby entreated, putting the heated palm of his hand against the back of Sans' hand.  
When the skeleton's single red eye lit up Grillby smiled in relief and patted his hand again:  
"Drink." He instructed simply, firmly, with all concern he held for his friend.  
Sans shakily drank and without requesting it, Grillby served him another. Within moments of finishing the second glass he seemed to sit a little straighter on his stool. That disconcerting eye relaxed; the pupil dilated, removing that slightly frenzied expression from his socket.  
_**Boss**_. The title didn't sit well with Sans... before he left to return home for the night, Sans told Grillby:  
"Never call me that... not while he lives."  
So he just called him Sans.  
Like old times.

Grillby was there, half dozing himself on the stool next to him, when Sans woke from this night's sleep session, brief as it was of just half an hour. Sometimes it was forty-five minutes, sometimes an hour.  
"Hmmrgh." Sans groaned, hand reaching for the gaping hole in his skull and flinching without touching any of the sharp edges. His fingers twitched and testingly tapped at his face, moving down to the dull gold tooth, tugging on it as though confirming its solidity. Then he woke up at last and stretched his arms out in front of him, then up above his head, popping his joints and making satisfied grunts.

  
Grillby had already gone behind the bar and exchanged the empty mustard bottle for a new, full mustard bottle.  
Sans' eye glowed brightly, pocketing it with pride, getting to his feet and only then noticing the blanket on his shoulders.  
"Tch, awh Grillbz." He snorted, removing it and folding it into an awful lump, plopping it down on the stool.  
"I'll walk you home." It may have sounded like the simple concern of a friend but _Sans had to stay alive._  
"Don't," Sans waved his hand dismissively, steadily walking towards the door.  
"But-"  
"I'll go straight to bed. Promise. Red'll be around...anyway."  
That was true... but Grillby wished he would accept his offer once. He really would rather Sans moved out of that big house and into... well he'd give him his rooms and move down to the cellar himself if it meant being able to keep a closer guard. Red was good at his duty of course.  
"...of course." Grillby affirmed, forcing the tension out of his body as the door closed behind Sans and silence returned to the bar.

.

.

.

(I sketched the scene where Sans brings Grillby the first piles of food, it is in my DA Gallery here: https://www.deviantart.com/thenor/art/In-Holy-Agromony-Sans-Saves-Grillby-871914987)


	4. The Harrier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some posturing.
> 
> The amazing 13-Lenne-13 helped me to finalise the design of Farmer's Blaster with this awesome art! Go check it out! https://www.deviantart.com/13-lenne-13/art/Jethro-full-view-Giftart-for-TheNor-1-871894904

**In Holy Agronomy**

_**Chapter Four - The Harrier** _

It wasn't at all what he had expected but he had caught him right where he'd planned it; in the _maize_... and he had sprung the hidden trap there as well.

Papyrus would be proud.

"Well, well, well," Sans almost sang, with a pleased swing in his step. "This our filthy snatcher, is it?"

The monster wriggled and writhed in the net making a fury of expletives at him as he came near. "Now, now, quiet your cussin', you'll turn me crops rotten."

Reaching the magical bindings, Sans observed his snared game and got the shock of his life: A skeleton. What was left of one anyway, going by the disturbingly large hole in his head, connecting to the large scars across his left eye socket. 

"Well I'll be..." he couldn't help but mumble, holding the monster still with blue magic. Beneath the hollow sockets there were older, smaller fractures radiating from one tooth that had been replaced with a golden fanged tooth, despite the true canine still being beside it. Clearly it was more for display than practical use.

There was an unsettling likeness to himself in that face... a face that was trembling with restrained aggression. It was then that a lumpy red eye faded in from black and fixed his scrutinizing look with a pinpoint stare. Unsettling, right down to his marrow. Sans took a step back and released the binding weed trap, lightly easing the blue hold so that the familiar stranger could get to his feet.

Once he had staggered up, Sans set his teeth to his best poker grin and asked firmly: " **WHO ARE YOU?** "

The strength of his voice, amplified by intent, took the other monster by surprise - he noted the grin faltered momentarily before he drew up his chest and growled out:

" _Your worst nightmare._ "

Sans hadn't reacted at first, keeping his uncanny smile firmly in place.

Turned out, he was hardly anything worth fretting about. More like a weak and frightened baby rabbit up against a fox.

  
What had followed after that had been a presenting of their powers: Blasters summoned casually like silently drawn swords but where Sans had brought forth a full set of bones exquisitely formed from nose to tail, his opponents' lonely skull quivered and hung barely a few feet off the ground.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Summoning his Blaster had been an instinctive response to sensing the threat from the fat skeleton that apparently owned this field. He hadn't been able to, neither had he wanted to summon it, not for a long time... not since his last encounter with _that human._

He audibly gasped when it was drawn out, not expecting the high cost of the magic it took to maintain its physical form to immediately render his body stiff. He couldn't move an inch lest he risked shattering his bones at the expense of preserving his soul.  
He panicked as he realised with horror struck dread that he was unable to dismiss it; that his Blaster had been snared, most likely by that intense glowing glare from the other apparition: a skeletal bird or dragon hybrid of some kind. Although all bone there were ghostly green feathers adorning its neck and wings, tapering into mist down the spine to its tail tip.

To say he was concerned was an understatement.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Sans took a moment to assess and conclude that the doppelganger was not as big a threat as he claimed to be. His authority remained intact and the thief dropped to his knees with a pained grunt - apparently all the bark and bite having been driven out of him.  
"Lemme go, an'... yeh won't see me... a-gain." His voice was deep and a little husky, with a slight stammer.  
"Until this morning you've had the run of me store an' I ain't seen yer at all, why would I believe you won't be back t' take more?" Sans said, taking little satisfaction in the obvious pain he caused by gently tightening his hold.  
Standing in front of him now, he could sense the thin magical pulse... it hadn't been replenished in a long time... _where had he come from? There was no-one in the Underground without access to three square meals a day, plus second breakfast. Sans loved second breakfast._  
Now he was regretting the hard tone in his voice but he still had to be careful not to be taken for a fool.

"You there mucker? What've you got to say f'yerself?"

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

"...Sans."  
"...what?"  
The scarred skeleton repeated: "Sans... my name is... _Sans_."  
The farmer's green eyelight blinked.   
"You what...? You're...?"

...And so he had the mysteries of the universe explained to him. This skeleton was actually an alternate dimension version of himself; what he would have been if he had lived a far different life.

  
"So you became a thief in this, more violent version of my world?" He said, after his scarred counterpart had briefly described it.  
"Only since coming here."  


They had agreed on a peaceful solution; to start their meeting again on neutral ground. So they were seated on a log beside a gently running brook. This wasn't Snowdin - there wasn't such a place here - instead this little land of fertile green fields outside the border of the Ruins was called Verdton. So much grew here... the ground was always growing and the life cycle of the plants was sped up. On the surface most food grew in a number of weeks or months, slowly, soaking in the daily sun and eventually being ready for harvest in high or late summer.  
In Verdton they could pull in a full harvest every month and, if replanted quickly, there could be another harvest within weeks.

The Sans with the broken skull wasn't a fast talker or a particularly complex one, the farmer noted, learning quickly to hold back his eager questioning. Apparently life back at the other Underground had never been a bed of roses but in recent years it had turned worse... _much worse_. That was why when he had found this world and seen the storehouse, overflowing with several harvests from this year alone, it was too much of a temptation to even stop and think about asking.

  
"What... do you think about... us not callin' each other... by our real names...?" The scarred Sans cautiously asked.  
The farmer looked at him for a while in deep consideration before finally answering.  
"Yes, feels a bit off don' it? Like 'm talkin' to meself inna mirror or summat." He chuckled with a chubby wink. "Ere I got one for you already: _Hare_."

  
Hare grinned and inclined his head away in a half-chuckle and a groan.  
"Pfft okay, that'll do, sure. Ok... let's see, what do I call you... hmm." He looked the farmer up and down and thought of a few words that felt like they would probably offend... and in a strange way insult himself.

_He was actually quite fond of rabbits..._  
"I thought you might be," the farmer nodded at his unrestrained mumble.  
"...eh...?"  
"You like rabbits. Me too. Looks like some things abou' us extend 'cross worlds. Used to date one act'ly. Didn't work out."   
Hare absorbed this information and thought of that old drunken bunny girl who also hit on him at the bar.  
"Huh." He said.

  
A few quiet moments passed with only the sound of the babbling water below the bank.  
"...You need some help there? Comin' up with my name?" Farmer said.  
Hare sucked in a long breath... holding it with his thoughts. He exhaled firmly with his answer:  
" _Farm...er?_ "

He got his first big laugh from him and a punch to the arm for that.

It was nice to hear that genuine sound again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harrier: any of a genus (Circus) of slender hawks having long angled wings and long legs and feeding chiefly on small mammals, reptiles, and insects
> 
> Also someone that harries, say, at an intruder.
> 
> ~~~ that thing that Farmer did there with making his voice REALLY LOUD is something that skeletons in the Norverse can do if they really concentrate. It's like being able to throw their voice and technically is a telepathic ability. Usually used in combat or other social interactions where it can be a quick way to determine who is the dominant authority. Good for settling arguments.~~
> 
> (His bork did do a frighten U.U)


	5. Fractured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (This one took a little time to work out all the details, then RealLife caused delays in getting this posted FINALLY!)
> 
> Sans tries to keep a hold of his senses and we get to learn about how and where he is acquiring all this food...

** Chapter Five - Fractured **

"Two weeks..." Sans pondered, nursing a mustard at the bar. Grillby was seated next to him, since Sans was his only 'customer' and it wasn't required he stood behind the bar anymore. His purple flames crackled in a momentary shiver as he nodded to confirm.  
"Just over. I think we all thought you were... well what happened?" He quickly deflected, also giving all of his attention to cradling his own drink. The fumes of which never bothered Sans like it did the others. Then again, Sans didn't have a nose.  
How did a skeleton smell?  
Heh. He knew a joke to that once...

"...bones." Sans murmured, running a fingertip along the edge of his cranium.  
"...Sans... can you tell me where you go?" Grillby, ever patient, asked more directly.

_Well..._

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

At first he wasn't sure the machine had worked. When he stepped out of it the cellar looked the same as his own... but little differences revealed otherwise; the tiles on the floor were muddied and the lights worked when he flipped the switch by the foot of the stairs.  
Then he saw that there were storage crates lined up against one wall and inside there were jars and jars of... soil...? Seeds? He spent a brief time assessing the rest of the contents of the crates and saw that there were dates labeled on everything... some sort of scientific archive by the looks of it.  
Nothing useful to him.

He took his time going about the relatively small cellar/lab room, accruing intel about the owner of it. He checked over the machine, ensuring he still had a functioning route home.  
A scientist... biologist maybe? A mess... they had a sloppy way of keeping their work space... and it seemed they used it somewhat regularly.  
Sans would have to be careful when coming through the portal, to make sure he had his bullets prepared... he had no idea what rules this universe went by and could run into a nastier version of himself. There was any and all possibilities after all... 

What should he do now? Explore some more? Go home before he was caught and try to find a different dimension...?

First - find food. Take anything else worth having. Return home and purge the link. Don't think about the bastard he was about to rip off.

He reached the top of the stairs and, of course it was locked. His key was in the drawer of his desk in his room, a world away... but... perhaps some things were the same here as they were back home? It was a risk to take but...

He put the palm of his left hand against the door and hoped that on the other side there was-  
_//-yes!-//_  
-the same open space behind his house. Shortcut accomplished with only a minor drain on his magic.

The next few minutes had his mind blown. If there was ever a need for proof this wasn't his world anymore, this view alone would be enough:

He was on a low hill overlooking rolling fields of green; lush acres of farmland as far as his one straining eye could see. There was so much _light_. Where was it coming from? Was this still the Underground...?  
Suddenly he remembered he wasn't supposed to be here and dove behind the nearest cover; a convenient wood pile. Kneeling down his hands touched rough grass growing through the stacked wood. He pawed at it in wonderment then quickly scanned all around, deciding to investigate a nearby wooden shed, plucking at the grass and enjoying the sensation.  
  
What devices of terror would he discover in the old torture room?  
Apparently: potatoes.  
Carrots.  
Apples... tomatoes... beans... cabbages, onions, parsnips, cucumber, parsley, beetroot, turnips...  
Once he broke the magic lock with a flick of his wrist, he almost fell down in shock at the sight of the shed _fully stocked with more food than he had seen in a decade._

He moved on instinct and what he did next he did with a silent mind. Without another moment's hesitation he snatched up a few apples - some went in his pockets, some went in his mouth. When his coat and short pockets were bulging he found a small sack and hastily shovelled as much as he could until it was also overflowing.

One more similar sized sack filled later and he was trembling, struggling to hold them without spilling and trying not to panic.

  
**_He had to get out of there before the owner caught him!_**

  
_**He didn't have enough! He needed to make sure he had enough for-**_  
  
He stuffed a couple of cheeses and salted hams inside his coat, zipping it up and holding his arms and the sacks in close - and that was suddenly _enough_. He turned on his heel and fled, shakily replacing the magical lock on the shed door and ducking behind the wood pile again.

His soul pulse was racing and sweat was dripping down his crooked face. All he wanted to do was shortcut back into the lab and get the hell back home - then, then he had to come back! He couldn't erase the link now - not yet! He had to - had to take it back... as much as he could.

He checked the area and absolutely nothing had changed out here since he was inside the shed. He took his chance and made the shortcut.  
By the time he had got the machine to work on this side his vision was blurring badly and his whole body was shaking. The portal worked - he was back in his own cellar!

Sans stumbled, dropping everything and tripping over his feet. His knees hit the floor hard but the pain was insignificant against the extreme fear that he had crushed something - damaged the food beyond edibility!

In a daze of physical pain and worry he gathered up everything and made to get to his feet - but suddenly he felt his head spin and he was vomiting half digested apples and whatever else he had snatched from the other shed.  
Shame and despair twisted the magic in his core as he could not bring himself to look at the wasted mess on the floor.  
Feeling faint, he nevertheless made his way up the stairs, unlocking the door with the key still in the lock... and stepped outside into his familiar frozen Snowdin.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Sans omitted out the details of being sick once he came back home. He also chose not to mention the fields and said only that there was no snow. He explored very little, only discovering the huge stock pile of food and figured there must he plenty of it to go around, so no-one would miss what he took... also, that the next three times he returned, there was no sign anyone _had_ noticed anything.   
So he was even more obliged to help the owner do a little charity work.

Grillby listened with rapt attention; to a story relayed in part stumbling speech and simple, short sentences - which was the best that Sans could do when his headache flared up. When Sans trailed off and replaced words with mustard, Grillby looked away into the shadowed edges of his bar... processing the information and reaching a conclusion.

"So... you went... far away, found a place where there is no snow... and someone's well-stocked stash... and have been taking it."

"Through the machine."

"Yeeees... the machine... Sans... how long have you been working on, that machine...?"

Years ago, before the Core failed on them, a drunken and typically irritable Sans had rambled on about how he was working on a machine at home, one that would bypass the Barrier and make it possible to leave the Underground.  
There was a point, at the height of all the chaos-induced panic, that he heard from his associates that Sans was holed up in his cellar and apparently never returning into his house, so it was assumed he was working on something and sleeping down there. Working, rather than hiding fron the fighting outside... but Grillby deduced both scenarios was likely. Sans had always been a little unpredictable in his mood swings and was more often operating drunk than sober, during which times he was simply miserable and sat at the end of his bar trying to get drunk as fast as possible. Just enough to vent some pent up emotion and stumble out... or be dragged out by his older brother.

Everyone learned to cope in their own way... and Sans _was_ a survivor.

**We all lost a little bit of ourselves along the way**.

Grillby asked again, this time Sans heard him and paused in mid-suck of his third mustard bottle of the night.  
_**I was right to make more than one batch.**_

Sans was chuckling. It was a quiet, soft chuckle, as though he was the only one privy to a good joke. He sat the bottle down and stared at it, hollow-eyed and grin more stiff than usual.  
"...how long... have you known me?"  
He considered the question very seriously.  
"Ten...twenty years? At least?"  
Sans turned his head slowly so that he could look more directly at Grillby with his bloodied eye. Not for the first time it unsettled him, especially when he could remember it glistening like a ruby... back when there were two of them.  
"....there's yer answer." Sans said, matter-of-factly.  
Had he been expecting a more elaborate response than that?  
The skeleton was a tightly closed box now even more than ever, despite having a huge crack in it.

Grillby sighed defeatedly, stood up and stretched. Sans was already half slumped in his usual spot, hand clasped around the unfinished bottle. In a few minutes he would start snoring so that was the end of question time.  
"...Grillb...y."  
His flames flickered soft lavendar at the unexpected bonus conversation he was getting this evening; Sans had already spoken far more than he usually did.  
"Sans?"  
"..........................good night."

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Farmer repeated his question and brought Hare back from his mind wandering.  
"Well, what do you reckon then? Mr Hare...? Your own bit of garden so you can do your own - can't be grafting from mine all the time. I got me own obligations here to think of."

Sans - or Hare as he went by on this side of the door - had paused mid-shoveling soil back over the hole and must have been spacing out again, seeing the way the farmer was looking at him; a softly pitying expression on his boney face.  
"You need a rest there?"

Hare went to shake his head 'no' but as he made to finish the task at hand he felt his energy falling weak and his vision dimmed.

  
_**What was he doing here** **?** _

  
The farmer continued talking, his voice eventually sounding closer, as Hare's soul set to the task of establishing a steady magic flow whilst an anxiety attack fought to destabilise it.

"You're needin' plenty more than what you've taken so far - I worry you ain't been eatin' much of it yourself though... have you?"  
His new friend was gently removing Hare's work gloves to take his trembling bones into his own hands. How often had he done this during one of his unpredictable attacks? He hated that he had become so dependent on the other being there, for that touch on his fingers to trigger a rolling wave effect of calm and stability in his soul pulse.

"What set ya off this time?" Said the other Sans, patting his hands as the pupil in Hare's red eye light grew back to normal size and stopped being a quivering pinprick.  
Hare slumped forward; spent of all strength to even care that he was leaning his face into the farmer's shoulder. Both were used to this level of their friendship by now.  
"'M sorry if I said too much, best we get some lunch in ya first, then we can talk 'bout what you'll be needin' for yer people back 'ome, yes? Come on lad, on yer feet."  
Hare grumbled but obliged without resistance. Farmer always treated Hare with such care and respect, he couldn't get mad at him... not at a better version of himself.

"L...un...ch." Angel above he was tired of feeling so weak, sounding so pathetic and _dumb_ around him. He must come across as some idiot incapable of cognitive thinking, where in fact his mind often ran faster than his tongue could keep up. It had to be that gaping hole in his skull that caused all his speech to rattle around and fall out there. It took so much effort to summon most words that he often chose to stay silent and let his actions speak for him.

"A proper lunch for me an' me best pal, I reckon I know just what you'd like as well." He said, lifting Hare up and giving him that familial wink. "First we'll be gettin' you to the couch back 'ome! Much comfier than the bench, amiright?"  
"Mhm. Couch. Lunch n' couch... sounds good."  
Farmer laughed and continued to escort Hare back towards town with his arm over his shoulder, his other hand steadying his back.  
"Ee, you an't tasted Grillbert's yet 'ave you? How's about I bring back some bitters too? 'Ee does 'm in bottle now, don't taste the same as straight off th' tap but still a marvelous tipple. Come on me'ansum, see you're steady now, almost there... then you can rest."

_How long had he been here this time? When was the last time he went back to the bar with supplies...?_

  
Hare kept his one eye on the well-trodden dirt path and for a few calm, blank minutes...  
...he was simply content to be walking the path back to the house: the house where he had a spot on the two-seater reserved just for him.


	6. Nourishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter?
> 
> Fluff. >w<
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeyyy so BEFORE you read this chapter I need to tell you that...
> 
> ...I TOTALLY FORGOT A CHAPTER... so I have posted it right where it was supposed to be aaaand it's full of backstory and basically character building omg SO I am very sorry but maybe go back and read from CHAPTER THREE - THE LONG NIGHTMARE before reading this...
> 
> (Can't believe I made such a huge mistake omg)

** Chapter Six - Nourishment **

He woke up in his favourite spot: cradled into the depression on the couch with his head resting on the arm. His hands tucked into his coat pockets and his knees pulled in close to his chest.  
He heard sounds of someone busy in the kitchen: the clatter of a pot and of more than one plate being laid out on a wooden table.

_How long had it been since he'd last heard such a normal thing..._

Sans squirmed to wake up his sleepy bones and reluctantly pulled away from happy memories... better thoughts of Papyrus... opening his eyes and keeping his view still wherever they faced first: The tv of course. It wasn't on but then it hadn't worked for a decade.

_Wait... he took their tv apart when he needed the pieces... so... where was..._

A confused panic made his head snap up and his soul to instantly kick into high alert mode; lighting up his eye intensely and sparking a similar hue of magic between all of his bones. He was locked and loaded with attack bullets, not yet manifested but itching at his fingertips.

" ** _Easy there, little rabbit~_** " Farmer's steady voice reached him before he was half way across the room; hands raised in a non-threatening gesture. His eyelight was glowing green with healing magic at the ready. "-did you forget where you are?"  
He approached carefully but with swiftness, waving his hand in front of Hare's eyes to make sure he was aware he was there.  
"O-oh, F...rmr... sorry. I thought- I can't-"  
"Ehh jus' you focus on gettin' your pulse down me'lad, ne'er mind me." He instructed with his palm lightly illuminating emerald and pressing it to the top of his skull.

  
Hare made an involuntary whimper as his other self touched the sensitive bone, interrupting his magic's erratic pace by forcing his much calmer pulse rate into the flow.  
Hare soon sighed and began to draw in longer, deeper breaths, sinking into his knees again. He could feel the other Sans' intent guiding his magic along on its journey throughout his body; never trying to take over but definitely holding firm to him.  
Fear of the unfamiliar travel buddy made his own magic wrestle and squeeze his soul tighter, bringing on renewed panic... but his friend sent another wave of soothing intent into the flow and the fear faded.

Sans had never felt healing magic from another monster before. All of his HP was usually restored from absorbing food. He was sure he'd seen Undyne use it to heal before but that sort of gift was rare and if you had it, you didn't waste it on others unless you absolutely had to of course.  
It was a pretty good ace up your sleeve... he had no idea it could feel so good...  
  
"There... there my friend..." Farmer soothed, whispering lightly and moving his hand in a caress. "You're safe wi' me lad... don' you fret."

Hare twitched and melted into the caresses, inside and outside his body.  
"Mm... not... a babybones..." he stubbornly grumbled, not making any attempt to shrug him off.

Farmer chuckled and began to retract his magic, leaving it up to Hare to settle the last of his nerves. He lifted his hand off of Hare's skull but it was suddenly pulled by the wrist and held back on the warmed spot just next to his old injury.  
"Nghh." Hare whined, rubbing his head against Farmer's palm.  
"Lad...?"  
"Don't... go."

Farmer's expression softened, regarding this sad, broken skeleton he had only known a few weeks, that he was already so very fond of. He would have never imagined in a million years that he would ever meet another skeleton... even though he was him and feeling anything for Hare was completely narcissistic, right? They even had the same name... and lived in the same house on the same edge of town. Though, theirs was a land stuck in a permanent winter whilst he lived in endless summer.  
There were enough differences between their worlds and between them... it was more like discovering an old friend.  
They were individual enough, so, it wasn't... wrong, was it? This wasn't a bad thing? Hare _was_ unknown to the rest of town after all.

Whilst debating with himself over the validity of his feelings, Sans suddenly realised his Hare was still nuzzling his hand and... he was crying. His sockets squeezed shut and his fierce teeth clenched tight in a grimace, with blood red tears staining his face as he too battled internally with conflicting emotions.

It was obvious there was something happening to both of them. He should have thought about things before he dived in with the healing touch - he probably just made things go too fast for his sweet lad. Did he overstep a boundary?

"Ah, lad..." Sans said softly, dismissing his concern and summoning the healing magic to his hand again. He just wanted to make closer contact with that fragile soul once more.

He moved it to lay upon his strained eyes and then brought up his other hand, also lightly glowing with that green kindness, to match the position of the other.  
He smoothly caressed outwards, with the base of his palm, from the tip of Hare's nose to the edges of his face; framing it within his hands.  
"Eaaaasy my love~" he continued to coo, repeating the motion and wiping at the tears with his thumbs.  
  
Hare, shivering, blearily opened his eyes and the single red pupil wobbled, taking in the view and dilating in a mild panic.  
"H-huh? F-farm... what... why are you...?"  
"Shhh, it's all right, you don't have to hide from me... somethin' tells me you been doin' a lot of hiding from folk for a long time, an't you? You're more tense than I ever seen... you're barely holdin' together."  
Hare made to say something in protest but there was no strength in it. This farmer was undeniably right; how long had he felt like paper, held together by a thread?

As he grappled with thoughts and feelings that made no sense to him, he only recognised that his magic was being invaded again... no, invaded wasn't the right word for how it felt... Farmer wasn't pushing in with forceful aggression - that was an automatic response he'd learnt from his home world; expect betrayal, even at the intimate level. People only got close so they could hurt you.

"You can say what you're thinkin' my love, I want to listen. I want to know how I can 'elp you to feel bet'er."  
Hare made small, half whimpering choking noises, relishing that kindly tone. His cheeks started to glow a crimson blush.  
"Wh-why... you... keep calling me... l-love...?" His voice shrank as he spoke, his colour intensifying.

Farmer blushed back and laughed nervously, holding eye contact with him. The green magic at his fingers rippled with his nerves and tickled; triggering Hare into laughing along with him.  
"Ahh, that's jus' summat we say 'round ere, between folks. It's like a 'how are you?'... it doesn' usually get more complica'ed 'n that," as he said it though he felt like a liar, despite there being the whole truth in it. Feeling Hare chuckling between his hands made him feel giddy - he still had the connection open between them but he made no move to close it.  
He was enjoying this too much.  
However, he did close the distance between their physical forms with a softly pressed kiss; sparking their merged magic to flare at their teeth.

It was over quickly; he didn't think it was the best decision he had made, considering his friend's current vulnerable state. He pulled away suddenly, magic and all, face lit up bright green in embarrassment.  
"S'cuse me, that was unt'ward of me. I shouldn' have-"  
"-you _kissed_ me."  
He could no deny the shameful truth of that statement.  
"I know and 'm sorry!"  
"W-why?"  
"Because I wasn't thinkin', I shouldn' a' 'sumed-"  
"No."  
Farmer snapped his teeth shut and nodded guiltily. This was no time for him to panic - that could come later - he had done wrong and now was the time to own up to his mistake and hope to the stars he could recieve forgiveness and still keep his friend after this.  
Hare's red eye was fixed on him... strangely.  
"Roight, well-" Farmer began-  
**_-"Do it again."_**  
"Eh...?"

Hare was relaxing his knees, opening himself up all while fixing his eyes onto Farmer's with what could only be described as _hunger_. His mouth was drooling - _actually drooling_ \- and his eye was dim and half-lidded.  
"Touch me a-gain... just like that."

Farmer's universe stopped still as he tried to process just what he had heard and what he was seeing: Hare was getting to his feet and stepping towards him; one hand clutching at his socket and the other reaching out - touching his neck - sliding rough fingers upwards to explore the shape of his jaw - lingering at his canines and...  
...He fell against him, drooping his head upon his collar and breathing heavily. Farmer realised just in time that he needed to catch him before his legs gave up as well.  
"Angel above!" He gasped, throwing his arms around him to steady his feet.  
"Mnngh..." Hare mumbled, his eyelids dropping all the way. "More..."  
"You need more than just a healer's hand my love, you _gotta_ eat. I don' un'erstand why you're so skinny af'er all you pinched - din't you eat _any_ of it?" Farmer sighed in exasperation and carried on, lightly patting at Hare's back and ribs. 

It took a moment for him to realise that he was still here: Hare didn't get angry and leave. Hare was... putting his arms around his waist, securing his hands at his back and keeping his face pushed into his collarbone. His breath was warm and steady, as though he could have fallen asleep.   
Sans's eyes dropped as well, savouring that hold; feeling needed again by someone but... it felt different with Hare than it ever had done when his little brother reached out for him, so many years ago...  
In a soft voice, he made to move them on from this dream moment and test reality: "You... slept right through lunch so I thought to prepare you a proper dinner - and I'll make sure you eat it mind. I reckon you should build up them bones before you go back 'ome."  
  
"Hungry..." Was Hare's muffled answer.  
"Come on my leveret; come sit with me and eat 'til yer soul's content."  
With another set of pats to rouse him, Farmer coaxed Hare to the kitchen and sat him down, pulling his seat around from the opposite end and positioning himself at his side. He didn't want to be anywhere further away.  
"Tuck in, tuck in!" He said, generously filling Hare's plate... whilst also ensuring he wasn't about to sway off of his chair.

It was a feast for at least three large monsters, not two little skeletons. Hare vaguely wondered if this was a typical portion for monsters of this world (they had so much food, why not dine like royalty every day?) or if it was just how Sa- _Farmer_ ate daily. His chunky figure was making sense now... even though he was always hard at work in his field and was surely burning a lot of that excess magic off, he was still a dumpling.

"Hare...?"  
"Mhhm?"  
Farmer was looking at him with that confused, pitying expression again.  
"Is... food usually poisoned back 'ome? Is that why you're afraid to eat...?"  
Hare blinked at him, looking down to his plate and at the bowls of wonderfully cooked vegetables, mashed potatoes, roasted ham... beef...  
...and his plate piled high and dripping with gravy.

Hare clumsily picked up his fork and held it hovering over his plate - shaking - unable to block out the shame and guilt he'd felt every time he hadn't been able to keep anything down. He was wasting too much when there were desperate mouths of children to feed... he needed to make sure there was enough for them first, before he tried again... before he threw it up on the floor.

Guessing he may have been on to something, Farmer picked up his own fork and stuck it in the mountain of mash, taking the first bite himself, to prove it was not poisoned.  
Then he made another fork full and held it in front of Hare's mouth. He hinted so calmly, with his chin resting on his other hand and his expression simply that of kindness itself, that Hare was compelled to open his teeth and... accept the offered food.  
He chewed.  
Gently.  
He held a lingering look at his friend and realised how much looking upon him warmed his heart, that he would do anything he told him to do; even let him feed him like the pathetic waste he was.  
Farmer grinned with soft, pudgy pride and scooped up another fork full, repeating the gesture.  
He beamed with satisfaction, both of them laughing at the absurdity when Hare accepted it again.

Several repeated turns later, Hare's awkwardness returned and he found it easy to shy away from another offered mouthful, gradually consuming everything on his plate by himself.  
Like an adult.  
Farmer's encouragement and approval at the end made his magic shiver in a pleasant way and he couldn't stop smiling, as crooked and ugly as it must have looked to him. Though, he was feeling a bit wobbly; expecting the sensation of his magic to drastically twist backwards at any moment - but his friend's hand resting on his chest, softly glowing, caressing his shivering soul... it felt like a calm breath holding everything still.

_**Thank you. Thank you...** _

Within a few minutes of finishing his meal, Hare felt his magic renewing; His body was absorbing fresh new life force for the first time in years and he had his friend to thank for all of it.

He couldn't stop gazing adoringly at him.

"Can I... call you somethin' else?"

Farmer blinked out of his own gazing, instinctively leaning closer to hear his often-quiet companion.

"Finally got somethin' 'av yeh?" He winked, unaware his cheeks were lighting up. Hare put a hand to feel the heat in his cheekbones and leaned in, bringing them nose-to-nose and blushing back he asked:

"C-can I, call you... sweetheart?"


	7. Fundamental Basics [nsfw warning]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woops, this went into NSFW real quick ^^;  
> I had planned to kerp that sort of content out of this fic but... welp, it just happened!
> 
> ~Enjoy °v°

**Chapter Seven - Fundamental Basics**

Hare woke up in a familiar room, that smelled like home; dusty, slightly stale air and most dominantly; his own personal odour of long-unwashed bones.  
Which was unusual because he often went about obliviously unaware of his own hygiene crimes.  
Not yet feeling ready to look upon the new day, he turned over to cocoon into that earthy scent, cultivated by the combined lack of effort both he and his alternate had towards taking a daily shower.

His squirming (bringing his knees up into the toasty snuggle) stirred his companion into waking.  
"Hrhm... cottontail? You awake?"  
"Mhrhh." Came Hare's muffled affirmation from Farmer's chest.  
A few unspoken moments passed in luxurious ignorance of the multiverse... before Farmer's hand started to lightly caress along the length of Hare's spine, slyly slipping his fingers down the back of his shorts, to linger at the sacral crest. Softly, rythmically stroking from the top of the sacrum to the delicate bones of Hare's coccyx.

It had the desired effect of unfurling the flower of his world; Hare stretched out his legs and quivered at the tender touches. His breathing was heating up against his sternum.  
Farmer smiled and kissed the top of Hare's head, noting with a small grimace how rough the edges of the large wound was. He could tell it was an old injury without yet unravelling the story behind it... perhaps there was some level of repair he could accomplish with his abilities but there would always be a hole there... and the damage to his psyche was deep-rooted, possibly from the trauma of that injury - or before?  
That would take a lot more time and care to restore than mere bones.

Hare made pleasurable noises that were as sweet as a kitten to Farmer's non-existent ears. It encouraged him to continue steady exploration of the sensitive bones around the illium wings, whilst his other hand pushed up the red sweater and set to discovering the ribs.

"Is this all right my love?" He whispered, nuzzling against Hare's neck and planting gentle kisses where he could. He was rewarded with chaste gasps and an awkward attempt to reciprocate the kisses against his own neck. Stars it was adorable.

A little longer Hare fully succumbed to the petting; relaxing his head back to allow his sweetheart to run his kisses and gentle teeth across his vertebrae down to his clavicle...  
...but-  
-he stopped Farmer's hand by the wrist, that had tickled testingly close to his pubic tubercle, sending a hot shiver throughout his body and colouring his cheekbones.  
"Oh? Not sure...?"  
"N-no I just-" _Just what? Just wasn't ready? What the hell was he acting like a schoolgirl for? He knew what came next - he'd done this before! Why did this feel so awkward with Far-, er, with Sa-?_

_**What the hell am I doing? This is, is - this is just masturbation right?**_

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

The warm mood had suddenly dropped but there was no way he could press on any further when his rabbit looked so cornered; frozen in one of his mental blocks triggered by the memory of a bad experience, probably.  
Sans tried to not sound disappointed when he pulled back his hands and sighed heavily. It took some effort to quell the stoked fire in his magic after all and, it was still fighting him to have satisfaction.

He directed Hare's hands to lay flat on the mattress and then he clambered off onto his feet. He was wearing bed shorts and a vest, which was doing nothing to hide his excess magic mass; a permanent green ecto belly and pseudo muscles on his upper arms and thighs, were visibly aroused and glowing. With his plain once-white vest on, he could have passed as a convenient lamp... though with the morning light creeping ever faster in through the gap in the curtain, he was probably a pretty unnessecary one.

He leaned down to put his hand upon Hare's brow and his red eye dimmed. That time he hadn't even needed to suggest him to calm with his magic.  
The rest of Hare's body instantly relaxed and sighed, sounding sleepy again.  
"Ey you daft lad," Sans cosseted, stroking at his sockets until the eyelights snuffed out. Sans pulled the blanket over him and tucked it in around his neck with loving care.  
He stood a moment with his knuckles on his generous hips, failing to snuff out his burning fire with concentration... puffed out his resolve through his teeth and went to have a shower.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

He could hear distant running water.

_**Papyrus...** _

His eye snapped alive and he sat up like a bolt. He was disorientated; the bed was in the middle of the room and the desk was in the wrong corner.  
He swung his legs out from the blanket and met the floor too far away - _since when did he have another mattress underneath his one?_  
It gave a little extra bounce when he stood up.

Then he remembered where he was.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Sans was fond of hot water and had given up trying to remember the last time he had tried so diligently to scrub the dirt of his fields out from his joints. He wasn't one to bother about washing at the end of a long day... or at the beginning of one. The most he usually bothered with was a hand wash and a wet flannel to his face.   
He had, however, taken a few more showers in the past month... since his counterpart had started coming to his house to take naps on the couch, so he wasn't stumbled upon in a bush or something by any of the locals... something inside him just made him want to _make an effort_.

Well, he realised why at last. He shook at his head and tutted at his own dumb ignorance of it. Ever since that very first meeting, he hadn't been able to stop _caring_ about Hare. He had only ever known of one other skeleton in his life, so he had little reference for what made him attractive... plus, his brother was not a person he wanted to put into that category... so he avoided thinking about it or directed all curiosities onto Hare's image instead.  
Of course, that just made him all the more interesting.

So... another universe, alternate to his own... that theory had apparently been proven by Hare's very existence in his world... unless he was lying.  
No. He wasn't.  
There wasn't any hidden malicious intent whenever he touched his soul directly. Hare had so far been easy to read... Sans wondered if it was because of that injury; if Hare wanted to be a locked box there was no point when anyone could see in through the gaping hole anyway.  
Sans had a good eye for the spirit.  
Often times he cursed it, for all the trouble it brought him.

Using a fine toothed brush for his delicate finger joints, Sans cleaned minute cracks and crevices he didn't even know he had. Papyrus was right: he had let himself go.  
Too much...

The drumming of the water on his skull dulled his senses but that curse at least granted him the ability to never be snuck up on. Hare had soft paws and an even lighter soul step... but Sans could hear it.

Maybe it was pity for his sorry state that hooked him at first - he never could bear to feel another suffering - and maybe it was something to do with him looking so much like himself.  
There were differences; the sharpened teeth; the heavier brows and the wider set shoulders... all hinting to a time when he had been a more intimidating figure... withered away to, well, just a skeleton in an oversized coat.  
The truth was, Sans didn't used to have so much in his magic reserves, that it warranted his body to have to make _more_ of him to store it somewhere. Perhaps he should prepare the cellar in case of something terribly wrong happening to his world too?

He turned around in the shower to look at his dear sweetsoul, trying to imagine his own world devoid of nearly all life; trapped in darkness and buried in snow... and who inflicted that horrific attack on him?  
_Whose arse did he need to kick into the void?_

Hare had only come in so far through the door of the bathroom and was observing Sans with one of those endearing head tilts of his.  
"Love?"  
Hare blushed, averting his eyes and gripping his sweater in both hands. Without saying anything he pulled it off over his head and discarded it to the floor. With his heart still skipping, Sans stared as Hare removed his shorts and stepped over to share the small space with him. Stuck in the cold air his bones shivered and seemed even more thin than they had felt in his hands.  
"Ere, you get under that - it's hot mind." He said shifting around the smaller skeleton and trying not to press against him anymore than was inevitable, considering his shape and size. Now it was his turn to flush a bright colour, as Hare looked at him all over and curiously put his hands on the squishy ecto.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

"...like a marshmallow." Hare grinned, running his hands around the warm mass, crossing the borders between it and bare bones.  
Farmer's soul light quivered at his touch. He could feel how tense he was holding back from continuing where his affection had left off.  
Hare felt bad about that.  
"S-sorry, 'bout... flaking on yeh." He said stepping back under the water, glowing more crimson as his body heated up. The water was wonderfully penetrating in all his forgotten corners... but it thundered around his skull and he had to hold his head out from the spray. He put his hand to his open head feeling the edges of the crack tender to his touch.

Farmer took his hand away and brought his other hand up to direct his face to his. He pressed his body against Hare, encouraging him into a kiss.  
The kiss moved them closer into each other, with Farmer reaching under Hare's pelvis and lifting him up, putting his legs around his hips, pushing him through the shower stream and stabilising his back upon the tiled wall.  
The hot water gushed around Farmer's body, splashing Hare's exposed ribs and lower spine - there wasn't an ounce of ecto on his belly. Their joint gasps of breath between waterfalls and hungry kisses absorbed all of their attention; given in to a base desire to get what they wanted, right now, no words required to question this anymore.

Hare wanted more of him; he felt excitement at touching those thick bones - powerful magic radiated from them and the softer form that made him a delight to cling onto - _so soft but solid and strong!_  
He moaned into each kiss, desperate to take the pressure of his tongue into his mouth, willing so hard to push against it as well.  
His will and the recent magic boost made conjuring an ecto tongue possible, at last; he could duel. Thank the stars for this paradise universe and this plump adonis, rubbing against his bones. He couldn't remember the last time he felt heat like this between his legs but he was pretty certain it was long, long before any of the really bad stuff happened.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Hare moaned as he fought back into the kisses, deepening them with an eager new muscle.  
Sans was in heavan!  
"You're beautiful~" he gasped, reaching with one hand for the firm new member of his body that had formed more than ready; glistening emerald green and shimmering wet. His other hand held Hare's pelvis; caressing a little hurriedly, looking for a soft spot to set his tool to ploughing.  
"My sweet cott, can yeh give me som'thin' to, to work with... down here?" Sans sweetly implored, brushing Hare's pubic symphysis with his fingertips. He continued to sow soft kisses in rows along Hare's delicate ribs.  
That ilicited a flush of red - almost pink - from his jumpy rabbit, who squeaked awkwardly and completely failed to hide his embarrassment from him.  
"S-sorry! H-hold on sw-eetheart- I guess it ain't - auto-matic... no more..."  
Sans nuzzled under his chin and gave him a kiss with an added healing spark, chuckling softly. He rocked his hips and his member in a gesture of eager encouragement, saying;  
"'S no problem my love, I un'nerstand. Want me ta help?"  


The shower continued to pour down on Sans' back and was beginning to feel too hard and repetitive on the same bones. It was starting to distract him.  
There was also a distinct lack of red glowing going on.  
"Eghhh? I can't... dunno why-"  
"Do your best sweetsoul, anything will do heh-heh," Sans said, fingering the sensitive area, making Hare's legs shiver and squeeze against his padded hips.  
Hare released little gasps of pleasured, slightly unsure moans.  
Sans whispered huskily to his ear; little tokens of adoration and promises of the tender care to come...

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

His magic burst awake suddenly, filling his pelvic inlet in a soft glow: a deep pink rose. It wasn't what he was expecting and it definitely didn't feel the same way as he remembered it felt to summon a dick.  
"The fu-?" Hare leaned away to look down at what he had formed, his expression a picture of confusion.  
Farmer hummed questionably but his eye lights sparkled seeing it.  
"What a pretty bloom my love, come let me water it," he said pulling him back into his firm hold and dousing them both under the shower, distracting Hare with the waterfall while he found the entrance to his garden.

It was the most surreal sex he'd ever had - mainly because he'd never been on the recieving end before and he had entirely different genitalia this time. When he closed his eyes he imagined they were fucking in Waterfall; a secret encounter on the borders of two territories - maybe they were fighting and it turned into fucking.  
Yeah, that was an old fantasy of his wasn't it? When he was younger and throwing himself into fighting pretty much everyone, he would fantasize on finding the love of his life in a rival gang and, after nearly getting caught and dusted by their people for the betrayal on both sides of course, they would have a victory fuck right as they dusted much larger monsters, taking the throne with ease.  
Hare moaned loudly, gripping Farmer's chunky ecto shoulder muscles. His toes squirmed and ankles twisted to gain a better hold of him.  
Their bodies, slick with hot rain and their effort to drive harder into each other with every thrust, rocked and fell against the tiles - sometimes Hare with his back pressed to the cold, hard surface, sometimes Farmer, when Hare leaned back to take in as much of him as he could.

At last it came to its inevitable climatic conclusion; Hare's body letting go in the moment, pulling Farmer's release with him. They panted heavily into each other's shoulders as they let the water wash over them.  
Hare slumped, totally exhausted, mewling in satisfaction, recieving yet more kisses on his neck.  
Farmer unsummoned his magical member, scooped Hare into his arms - bridal style - and turned off the shower.  
They emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

Farmer carried Hare back to the bedroom and lay his lover back into the soft bed, flopping down next to him, immediately asserting himself as the big spoon in the intimate snuggle.

"You're wonderful, sweetsoul~" Farmer said nuzzling into the back of Hare's head. He had his arms wrapped around to the front and secured on his chest. Both of their souls glowed within their ribs and sent wordless messages of trust and security between them. It felt utterly blissful; just the two of them joined as one in this world.  
Hare sighed dreamily, wiggling his rear against the marshmallow pillow that accomodated his butt so well.  
"You too... sugarhips," he said smirking, recieving a reminder of Farmer's strength in a pointedly firm hip nudge.  
"There's a lot more where that came from, sweet buns."  
"Yer wearin' the only buns 'round here... last time I looked... _my love~_ "  
They both chuckled at Hare's obvious imitation of Farmer's accent and they snuggled back to sleep (the day's chores: _"-be damned")._

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it ^_^
> 
> As usual, please consider leaving a comment or just a kudos ^3^
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> ~Nor


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